I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 103: I’m hungry

Elysia exhaled slowly, finally releasing the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The room felt unnervingly quiet now that Malvoria had left, the tension still lingering in the air like an unshaken storm.

She sat there for a few moments, staring at the closed doors, her mind racing. Why had Malvoria brought her here?

It wasn't as if she had forced her to stay—she could probably leave if she really wanted to—but something about the way Malvoria had walked away, after all that possessive nonsense, made her hesitate.

With a frustrated sigh, Elysia finally took in her surroundings.

It was the first time she had ever set foot in Malvoria's chambers, and considering the demon queen's personality, she had expected something grand—maybe an intimidating display of power, some ridiculous throne-like bed, walls lined with weapons, or at the very least, a decor that screamed demon queen.

But... it wasn't like that at all.

The room was shockingly normal.

It was large—of course, that was to be expected—but it wasn't overwhelming. The walls were a deep shade of black, accented with hints of crimson in the drapes and bedding, but it wasn't excessive.

There was no massive, gaudy chandelier, no golden embellishments.

The bed, though massive, was simple. The sheets were dark, and there was no over-the-top canopy or elaborate carvings—just something that looked comfortable.

Elysia's brow furrowed.

It wasn't... bad.

Actually, it was too normal.

There were no personal touches, no paintings or artifacts that hinted at Malvoria's past or interests. No sentimental trinkets, no unnecessary luxuries.

It was almost impersonal.

Elysia stood up, crossing the room, her curiosity getting the better of her. She trailed her fingers lightly over a wooden dresser—well-crafted but plain. She opened a drawer, half-expecting something interesting, but it was just filled with neatly folded clothes.

She frowned.

No secret weapons, no hidden letters, no evidence of anything particularly intriguing.

She moved toward a bookshelf, her fingers tracing the spines of the neatly arranged books. There were no romantic novels or tragic poetry collections—just history, strategy, and a few records on diplomacy.

Elysia huffed. "Of course."

Even Malvoria's choice in books was practical.

She glanced around again, taking in the space.

The only real personal touch in the entire room was a single sword mounted on the wall—different from the rest. It wasn't polished like a ceremonial weapon, nor did it look purely decorative. It was old, worn in places, as if it had seen real battle.

Elysia tilted her head.

Interesting.

She stepped closer, reaching out a hand to examine it—

"You really shouldn't touch that."

Elysia froze.

She turned her head sharply to see Malvoria leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with a raised brow.

Elysia narrowed her eyes. "How long have you been standing there?"

Malvoria smirked. "Long enough to see you snooping."

Elysia huffed, pulling her hand back from the sword. "I was not snooping."

"You opened my dresser."

"I was curious."

Malvoria pushed off the doorframe, walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps. "And? Did you find what you were looking for?"

Elysia pursed her lips. "No."

Malvoria chuckled, stopping just a step away from her. "Disappointed?"

Elysia crossed her arms. "A little."

Malvoria's amusement deepened. "Sorry to ruin your expectations, wife," she drawled. "Did you think you'd find something scandalous? Perhaps a collection of love letters? Or a stash of secret treasures?"

Elysia rolled her eyes. "No—but at least something that makes this place feel lived in."

Malvoria hummed, turning slightly to glance around the room. "I live here."

"That's not what I mean."

Elysia let out a sigh, waving a hand around. "This place—it's so practical. There's nothing personal about it. No art, no decor, no—" She gestured toward the bookshelf. "No pointless books."

Malvoria's lips twitched. "Pointless books?"

"You know—stories, poetry, *things people read because they enjoy them."

Malvoria smirked. "You assume I don't enjoy history?"

Elysia groaned. "Of course you do."

Malvoria chuckled, tilting her head slightly. "Would it make you feel better if I bought a romance novel?"

Elysia gave her a look. "That would be horrifying."

Malvoria laughed, a genuine sound that made something in Elysia's chest tighten.

For a moment, the tension between them seemed to ease, the weight of the previous night, the fight, even the kidnapping—all of it felt farther away.

But then Malvoria's expression shifted.

The amusement faded, replaced by something heavier.

Elysia noticed it immediately—the way Malvoria's shoulders tensed slightly, the way her jaw set, as if she was trying to decide whether to say something.

And then—

"I don't keep things," Malvoria said suddenly.

Elysia blinked. "What?"

Malvoria exhaled, turning slightly away. "You asked why this room doesn't feel lived in."

Elysia stayed silent.

Malvoria's voice was quieter now, more measured. "I don't see the point in keeping things. Sentimentality isn't... useful."

Elysia frowned.

She wanted to argue, to say that's not true, that people need things that make them feel connected to their past, to their memories.

But she knew Malvoria wasn't the kind of person who kept things just because they felt something.

Still, that didn't mean she felt nothing.

Elysia hesitated before asking, "What about that sword?"

Malvoria's gaze flicked toward it, lingering for just a second.

Then she simply said, "That one stays."

Elysia wanted to press further, but something in Malvoria's tone told her it wasn't something she would get an answer to tonight.

Instead, she took a step back, running a hand through her hair. "Fine," she muttered, finally looking away from Malvoria and toward the bed.

The very large bed.

That she was apparently staying in tonight.

Alone with Malvoria.

Elysia suddenly felt very aware of what that meant.

Malvoria must have noticed because a smirk slowly returned to her lips.

"Something wrong?" she asked, her voice far too amused.

Elysia huffed. "Just stay on your side of the bed."

Malvoria chuckled. "No promises."

Elysia shot her a glare, but Malvoria only turned toward the dresser, unfastening the buttons of her coat, completely unbothered.

Elysia exhaled sharply, throwing herself onto the bed and pulling the blankets over her.

She refused to think too much about it.

She was just going to sleep.

Nothing else.

Absolutely nothing else.

Elysia lay still under the covers, staring at the ceiling, willing herself to fall asleep.

But no matter how much she tried to ignore it, there was an unmistakable problem.

Her stomach was growling.

Loudly.

Traitorous body.

Elysia clenched her jaw, shutting her eyes tighter, trying to force sleep to take her, but it was useless. The hollow ache in her stomach only grew stronger, and the more she ignored it, the louder it got.

She regretted not eating earlier.

Now, here she was, trapped in Malvoria's stupid, oversized bed, in Malvoria's too-warm room, with nothing but the sound of her own starving stomach betraying her every few minutes.

She couldn't get up.

That would mean admitting she was hungry.

That would mean asking Malvoria—

Another loud growl echoed in the quiet chamber.

Elysia winced.

From the other side of the bed, Malvoria let out a slow, amused hum. "Something wrong?"

Elysia's face burned. "No."

Silence.

Then—another growl.

Malvoria chuckled. "Are you starving yourself out of pride?"

Elysia hated her.

Elysia scowled into the darkness, gripping the blanket tighter around herself as if that would somehow silence the traitorous grumbling of her stomach.

She wasn't going to give Malvoria the satisfaction.

Absolutely not.

She had already been dragged into this room against her will, had already been subjected to Malvoria's possessive nonsense, had already been humiliated during training—

She was not going to add begging for food to the list.

But her stomach clearly had other plans.

Another loud growl rumbled through the air, mocking her, and Malvoria let out an exasperated sigh.

"Elysia," she drawled, the amusement in her voice unmistakable.

Elysia refused to acknowledge her.

Another growl.

Malvoria let out a low chuckle, rolling onto her side to face her. "This is pathetic," she said lazily. "You're starving. Just admit it."

Elysia huffed, still stubbornly facing away. "I'm fine."

Malvoria snorted. "Your stomach says otherwise."

Elysia clenched her jaw, silently praying that her body would just shut up.

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Malvoria shifted beside her, the sheets rustling as she propped herself up on one elbow. "Are you really planning to suffer through the night out of sheer stubbornness?"

Elysia closed her eyes. "Yes."

Malvoria let out a slow, dramatic sigh. "I married an idiot."

Elysia twitched. "You nearly kidnapped me and forced me into this marriage."

"Details," Malvoria said smoothly.

Elysia groaned, pressing a pillow against her face.

Malvoria chuckled again, clearly enjoying this far too much. "Just admit it. You want me to bring you something."

Elysia's stomach rumbled again.

Betrayal.

Absolute betrayal.

She glared at Malvoria over the pillow. "Fine."

Malvoria smirked. "Fine, what?"

Elysia gritted her teeth. "I'm hungry."

Malvoria's smirk deepened. "Was that so hard?"

Elysia shot her a murderous look. "Go get me food before I strangle you."

Malvoria laughed, the sound warm and rich as she slid out of bed. "As you wish, my queen."